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I Hope You Grow Up and Learn to Like Mayonnaise




I have been mom-ing since I was twenty-four years old, and I started out with teenaged foster boys.

I settled pretty firmly into the mom role from that point on, and it extends strongly to all of my close friends.

I make homemade soup for my friends when they are sick. I chase after people when they have been visiting to make sure that they have water and a snack for the trip home. I watch my friends who perform on stage over and over again like a proud little mother hen. Random children will come up to me when they are hurt or need help, and conversely do their best to stay away from me if I happen to notice that they are behaving badly. It is pretty funny.

I have some pretty solidly set opinions about behavior, and maturity, and growing up.

I believe that people should be expected to do and say deeply moronic things until they hit the age of about twenty-seven. I don’t believe in coddling children in any manner; I treat them like miniature adults. I believe that baby talk encourages children to remain adorable little num-nums. I also believe that one of the qualifications of truly reaching full maturity is learning to like a variety of different foods.

I am admittedly a foodie, and once you study anything about food, you pick up the logic pretty quickly. Mayonnaise and its many variations make up the majority of the absolute best sauces in existence.

Magic happens when eggs, and oil, and acid meet. Not only is mayonnaise a frigging culinary miracle, it is delicious to boot. It is delightfully low in carbohydrates, even free of them if you make it at home, plus it contains protein, so I have never understood how certain “nutritionists” have made it out to be such a bad guy.

What most mayo-haters are not aware of, is that they are probably eating it all of the time in some form or another. Ranch dressing is made with mayonnaise, so is honey-mustard, I even know chefs who swear by using it to make grilled cheese in place of butter.

Those of us who truly love food are so serious about mayonnaise that we will sneak it in on people. I once observed a friend of mine pawn regular mayonnaise off on an unsuspecting anti-mayoer by referring to it as an aioli.

I grew up in a household where my mother preferred Miracle Whip; cringe. To be fair, she was born in Indiana, so I guess that is how that happened, but as I got older I was actually able to convince her that she needed to switch over to the grown-up stuff.

So yes, I fully admit that it is unfair to equate an individual’s maturity with their willingness to eat a hamburger properly outfitted with the sauce of the gods, but I will have to keep working on it.

In the meantime…I hope that you grow up, and learn to like mayonnaise.

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